


Directive: Steve Rogers

by Unlikelyoptimist



Series: Gunmetal Looking Glass [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android Bucky, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlikelyoptimist/pseuds/Unlikelyoptimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of WWI, Howard Stark Senior recognizes an opportunity. An excess of metal devoid of purpose, an absence of willing caretakers for veterans, and a post-war market pregnant with possibility lead to one idea: the Caretaker Android Reception Experiment, or the C.A.R.E initiative. Publicly, the initiative was part of an outreach program to target families in neighborhoods under the poverty line. Privately, it was an attempt to test the waters of android functionality; if there was an market for robotic caretakers, then Stark Industries certainly planned to make the most of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Directive: Steve Rogers

Dear Mrs. Rogers, 

Your request for a medical aide for your son has been approved. As part of a partnership with Stark Industries in their new android initiative program, we will be assigning a new caretaker model to your son. The BUCH4NAN model is the cutting edge of android technology, and once the proper programming has been implemented, will respond proactively to your son. 

The arrival date should be roughly within one week of this letter; the model will be fully activated and functional. All conditions and concerns as listed in the application had been archived into the model’s database; any future complications should be submitted via follow up form to the Office of Android Regulation for update. 

For more information on android-human interactions, as well as a guide to any possible malfunctions, please read the enclosed pamphlet. 

Sincerely,  
Hugh E. Garett  
Secretary for the Office of Android Regulation

Sarah Rogers put the letter back onto the table, glancing at the room where Steve was sleeping. Coughing, actually, at the moment, and she passed a hand over her forehead in exhaustion. She’d never loved Steve less for his illnesses and frailties, but her body, taxed between nursing at the hospital and nursing at home, was beginning to wear thin. 

She’d woken up late for a shift today, and barely managed to make it on time. Steve, barely eight, had handed her a lunchbag on the way out, neatly packed with her name on it in wobbly second grade cursive. She’d nearly cried, guilty for leaving him home alone yet again, but there was little else to do. 

Steve was already solemn for his age, eyes wide and bright in his pale face. His temper never faltered, too big for his body already as he raged against perceived injustices all around. She hadn’t caught on, for a while; he was always so well behaved at home, that the sparkle of mischief hadn’t been enough to warn her of the trouble he was getting into on the streets with every other boy on the block

Now it would be different. At first, she’d been as apprehensive as everyone else about the android initiative program, worried about the risks and the ethics, and all the usual concerns that had been brought up. To some extent, she still was, but there wasn’t much of a choice any more. The other day, she’d come home to Steve wheezing his way through an asthma attack so intense that he’d struggled just to focus and grab his inhaler off the table, five feet away. Next time, what if she came home and he’d asphyxiated because he dropped his inhaler and couldn’t find it in time? She would never forgive herself. 

The next morning, she addressed the issue over a meager breakfast; for once, her shift didn’t start for another hour, so she had some time before she started getting ready. 

“Steve, someone else is going to be living with us.” Her voice was casual and unhurried, but her hands shook as she picked up her coffee cup. Steve put down his piece of toast for a moment, brow furrowing slightly. 

“Someone else? Like a boarder?” He didn’t like the idea of anyone else invading their home, especially some tenant worker that might not be trustworthy. Smiling, Sarah shook her head. 

“No, not a boarder. An...an android. It’s a caretaker model, and it’s going to keep an eye on you while I’m at work.” 

“Because I’m sick.” Steve’s interest suddenly subsided, and he went back to his toast dully. “How much did it cost?” She winced; Steve was perceptive already, and he hated asking money for anything. She should have known that it would be his first concern. Reaching across the table, she wrapped a hand around his wrist (much too slender, even for his age) and squeezed. 

“Not a cent. It’s paid for by the government. Part of an outreach program.” Steve wrinkled his nose, but not with quite the same distaste as before. He hated words like ‘outreach’ and ‘initiatives’, because the kids at school had told him they were only for people who couldn’t help themselves, which he didn’t think was true. It was always the same; he was just a problem that needed solved. Still, if it would help his ma, and it didn’t cost anything, he supposed he could bear with it. 

“I guess that doesn’t sound so bad,” he conceded finally, taking another bite of his toast as Sarah rose from the table, trying to force down the stale crust. “Are they a he, or a she?” Pausing as she put the mug in the small sink, Sarah looked at him curiously. 

“You know, the letter didn’t say. They just wrote ‘it.’ Funny, I didn’t even think about it until you asked.”  
\---

On July 15th, 1926, Sarah opened the door to a suited government official along with a neatly dressed young man who looked to be vaguely twenty two, or somewhere close. He smiled politely; for her part, she just tried not to look openly distrustful. 

“Ma’am. I’m assuming you’re Mrs. Rogers?” She nodded once, opening the door slightly wider. Behind her, she could hear footsteps that meant Steve was coming to investigate. 

“This is your government issued BUCH4NAN model, assigned to...” He checked the letter before looking back up. “Steven Grant Rogers. Is he home? The android will need to confirm facial recognition scans.” Faintly, she nodded, beckoning them inside, and nearly tripping over Steve, who had been peeking around her. 

The BUCH4NAN model smiled warmly upon sight, and Steve smiled back, a knee jerk reaction, before reminding himself that he didn’t know if he liked androids yet. Androids, as he’d been told, were basically robots. He didn’t need a robot, he needed a better pair of lungs. 

“Hello, Steven.” Turning to the official, the unit added, “Facial recognition confirmed. Directive confirmed.” Carelessly, the suit waved him inside and nodded. “Very well. If you have any problems, Mrs. Rogers, please send a telegram to the provided address on the letter you received. Good day.” 

For a moment, the two Rogers stared at the android, who smiled politely back. Shaking her head, it was Mrs. Rogers who moved first. 

“Well, I’m off. Stevie, be good. And...” Trailing off, she searched for something to address the android by before shaking her head. “He’ll need-”

“His inhaler, yes. I have a spare with me, and I’ll be sure to watch for signs of respiratory difficulties.” 

Another moment of staring, eyes slightly narrowed, before she beckoned Steve close and kissed him on top of the head. “I’ll be back later, around eleven. Try...try to stay out of trouble this time. I told you those boys from the second floor are no good. Stay away from them, you hear?” Nodding, Steve watched his mother leave. The attempt at normalcy, no matter how transparent, was comforting. 

Silence. 

“What am I supposed to call you?” The model glanced down at Steve, who was surveying him with wide, critical blue eyes. 

“Whatever you like. My model code is referred to as BUCH4NAN, but I can see how that might be a bit lengthy.” Steve considered it, sucking on the inside of his cheek as he thought. 

“I’ll just call you Bucky, then. It’s sort of like your name, but shorter. And you can’t call me Steven, because it makes me feel like I’m in trouble. It’s just Steve.” The android paused for a moment before nodding. 

“Of course. Updated.” To his surprise, Steve was shaking his head. “What?”

“You can’t say things like ‘updated.’ It’s too...well, it makes you sound like a robot. Speaking of robots, aren’t you made of metal? Why do you look normal if you’re made of metal?” Now that the initial shyness had worn off, Steve’s questions were flowing out in earnest. He even reached out and poked the skin experimentally, pressing his finger into the android’s hand to watch the imprint. Bucky was swift to provide answers, eager to avoid an endless onslaught of questions for the rest of the morning. 

“I’m not a robot, I’m an android. There’s a difference. I look like a human, if that’s what you mean by normal, because I was designed to. My skin is an artificially synthesized-” Catching the look of confusion on Steve’s face, he sighed. “My skin isn’t really human, but it’s made to look and feel like it. Same with my hair, and my face. My personality has a special program that creates my reactions and responses to situations.” 

Suddenly, a queasy look appeared on Steve’s face. 

“Are you experiencing intestinal difficulties?” 

“Stomachache. Jesus, you gotta stop talking like that. And no, it’s just-well-are there a bunch of other robots, androids, whatever, that look just like you? You know, same face and everything?” Bucky smiled, a little less automatically this time, and shook his head. 

“No. One of a kind, determined by an automated facial feature generator. Mr. Stark thought that people might be alarmed by that; I see he was right.” Relieved, Steve nodded, coughing into his hand. 

“Well, I guess that’s alright, then. I was gonna go play with the other kids from the apartment, but I guess I can stay in today. I don’t feel so hot.” 

Bucky crouched down, examining Steve’s face so closely that he took an automatic step back, and pressed a hand to his forehead. The hand measured the temperature as effectively as a thermometer, and internal processing programs summarized the data for him. 

“What?” 

“Your analysis was correct.” Catching the disapproving look from Steve, a tiny furrow appeared on his brow, barely a wrinkle before he corrected himself. Steve watched, intrigued by the adjustment. “I meant that you’re right. Your immune system is weakened, probably by an airborne virus. You could probably prevent getting a full blown illness if you stay inside today and get the appropriate amount of rest and nutrients.” 

It was right then that Steve decided this wasn’t as horrible as he’d expected. Having someone around who could tell him when he was going to get sick was pretty neat. After all, skipping one day of getting yelled at while he tried to play baseball in the corner lot or weaving in between cars during tag was worth it if he could avoid being bedridden for the next week. 

“Okay. I’ll show you where my room is. C’mon.” Steve reached up and took Bucky’s hand, pulling. 

Thermal sensors registered the warmth, the fluttering, uneven pulse of blood through tiny veins. Bucky could map out each and every bone in his hand, even down to the composition; if prompted, he could have given a breakdown of the nutrients required to strengthen those same bones. 

None of those things required a smile. He produced one anyways.


End file.
